


T'éodore, bébé

by DoctorBilly



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: A little bit of French, Dimstrade - Freeform, Mention of guns, Mention of injuries, swears
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-04
Updated: 2014-07-04
Packaged: 2018-02-07 10:34:18
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,406
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1895856
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DoctorBilly/pseuds/DoctorBilly
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lestrade speaks French. Dimmock likes it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	T'éodore, bébé

"Pour l'amour de Dieu, T'éo, gardez toujours!"

"What? What did you just say?"

"I said for goodness sake keep still, Dimmock. Stop fidgeting."

"No. No, you didn't say that. You definitely didn't say that. It wasn't even in English, what you said. And I'm not fidgeting."

Lestrade sighed. He must have slipped into French. It happened sometimes, when he was under stress. And he was seriously under stress at the moment.

"What did you call me?"

"Theo. It's your name."

"You never call me Theo. You call me Dimmock. Or Dim, if you're being specially obnoxious. And you didn't call me Theo…"

"Merde. T'éo. I called you T'éo".

"Merde. I know that. That's French. Are you French, Lestrade?"

"Am I…'Lestrade' didn't give you a clue then? Call yourself a detective?"

"You don't generally sound French…"

"I'm not, really. My dad was. And my grandparents. I spent a lot of school holidays over there. Got used to speaking French. It comes out when I get stressed. And you were fidgeting. You're making this lilo bounce about. It's like trying to get to sleep on a blancmange."

"Well, you should have picked someone else to be your backup, then. I'm not doing it on purpose…"

Lestrade picked up the hint of anxiety in Dimmock's voice. He was stressed, too.

"Are you all right? You sound a bit tense. Want me to get the knots out of your shoulders?"

"I'm fine. You keep your hands to yourself."

"Look, Dimmock, I know you don't like me, but you're the best choice for this job. You'll have to put up with me for tonight. I need you calm, focused, relaxed. You'll be no use if you're twitchy…"

"Back to 'Dimmock' are we? What happened to 'T'éo'? And how can I be calm and relaxed if you won't brief me properly? I don't know what I'm going into in the morning. Don't know why we're camping out in the back of this lorry. Don't even know who I'm working for…"

"All right. I suppose it's time. I didn't tell you earlier because I didn't want to give you the chance to refuse. Sue me. We're working for Mycroft Holmes".

"Should have known. Bloody hush-hush stuff. And guns…"

"There's an agent. An assassin. Mycroft wants her taken out of circulation. Captured, if possible. Killed if necessary. I'm the bait to get her out in the open."

"And me?"

"You're a crack shot, T'éo. Your job is to take her down."

"Surely Mycroft could use his people? He must have snipers…"

"No. She's good. She'll spot any snipers. She'll only come out into the open if I'm on my own. She doesn't know you. You'll just drive up and park at the rendezvous by coincidence. You won't engage her. You won't notice anything odd. You'll just be there. And you'll see me approach her and you'll take her down, quickly, before she suspects anything."

"If she's that clever, she'll suspect something anyway."

"Maybe. You have to take her down, T'éo."

"She'll use you as a shield, Greg. They always do. That's how they get away…"

"Like I said. You have to take her down. You should be able to miss anything of mine that's important. Don't hesitate. She won't. "

"You're asking me to shoot even if there's a chance of hitting you?"

"No. I'm _telling_ you to shoot, even if hitting me is a certainty. You're the best I can get, T'éo. Steadiest hand of anyone I know."

"Not true. John Watson…"

"Can't use him for this. And you're better for this job. Less likely to hesitate because of a pretty face or a nice pair of tits."

"You'll be wearing a vest?"

"No. She'd spot it. And anyway, your shot needs to go through me if necessary."

"Fucking hell, Greg. Did you volunteer for this? Have you got a death wish?"

"Don't be stupid. You don't hate me enough to kill me. I'll be really upset if I don't survive…"

Dimmock laughed

"Fucking idiot. Why do you think I don't like you?"

"You make it pretty obvious. Everyone knows."

"Obvious how?"

"You avoid me as much as possible. You don't talk to me unless you absolutely have to. You sit or stand as far away from me as you can in meetings. You prefer to work on Gregson's cases, even when mine are more interesting. You politely decline every invitation to social events if you think I'll be there. You even turned your desk around to face away from my office. Fairly obvious."

"I suppose it looks that way."

"But it's not? Why then?"

"Something else. I don't want to talk about it."

"Suit yourself. Try to get some sleep. I need you fresh tomorrow. And don't fidget".

"Shut up. I don't fidget."

Dimmock dozed on and off, conscious of Lestrade sleeping beside him. How could the man stay so still? It was like trying to sleep next to a plank. It didn't help that the lilo wasn't really wide enough for two people to share comfortably. Unless they were very,very good friends.

He thought about the last things they had said, admitted to himself that it might very well look as if he disliked the DCI.

Nothing could be further from the truth. Dimmock liked Lestrade. A lot. He was nervous around him, kept his distance, it was true. That was so he didn't give himself away. When he had first been promoted and given his desk he had caught himself, more than once, gazing moonily in the direction of Lestrade's office. He'd turned his desk around to stop himself from doing it.

He stifled a moan. Thinking of Lestrade had started something in his pants that he wasn't going to be able to do anything about. He quietly unzipped his trousers to ease the pressure in his groin.

Lestrade wasn't asleep. He was thinking,too. What had Dimmock said? 'Something else'. _Stupid, Lestrade. Call yourself a detective?_

"Do you fancy me, Dimmock?"

"Fuck off Greg. I bet your name's not even Greg, is it? Greg's not French…"

"Grégor"

The French accent made Dimmock shiver. The voice was husky, right up against his ear.

"Do you though? T'éodore?"

"God. Say that again"

"T'éodore. Do you?"

Lestrade's voice was like warm honey poured over gravel. He brushed his mouth over Dimmock's ear. Dimmock shuddered. His ear must have a direct connection to his balls.

"All right. Yeah. I fancy you. Always have. And tomorrow I might have to kill you".

Lestrade shuffled close, wrapped his arms around Dimmock.

"It's okay. I trust you not to. Now relax, please T'éo. I need you relaxed".

Dimmock leaned back against Lestrade. He was warm. Closed his eyes. Slept.

 

*********

 

"T'éo. Are you awake?"

Dimmock groaned. His back ached. Something was crawling in his hair. He shuddered, realised it was Lestrade's hand, massaging his scalp. He'd fallen asleep with his head on the edge of Lestrade's hospital bed.

"T'éodore, bébé, tu es révéillé?"

Dimmock giggled. Had Lestrade just called him _baby_?

"I'm awake. So are you, I see. How's the shoulder?"

"It's okay. You missed all the bones. Messed up some muscles, but they'll heal. You did a good job. I knew you would."

"Why did you look at me in the car park? You tipped her off. She was half a second from killing you…"

"Yeah. I was stupid. She was going for her gun too soon. I knew I might have made a mistake, might die. Wanted to see your face before…"

"Silly fucker. What have they said about your hand?"

"Couple of smashed metacarpals. They've wired them up. Good job it's not my writing hand."

"Yeah. Your handwriting is bad enough as it is. Haven't you been trained in how to grab a gun?"

"It was a bit spur of the moment. Glad you only injured her. Mycroft's happy with the outcome of our little jaunt."

"Who is she?"

"One of Moriarty's leftovers, I think. She put a bullet in Sherlock's chest a while back. Mycroft will deal with her. You can forget it all happened. You'd better."

"Not while you're laid up in here, I can't."

"They won't keep me long. They need the beds. I'll be turfed out back to my lonely flat. Will you come and stay over now and then?"

"Try and keep me away. You can send me to sleep with French lullabies."

"Bien. Je vais le faire."

**Author's Note:**

> My Lestrade is called Gregor. I will see Dimmock as a Theodore unless/until we are told otherwise…
> 
> Er…I don't speak French. There may be errors…
> 
> These characters are not mine. I'm just messing with them.


End file.
